The Core Project
by Audacia's Quill
Summary: AU-y Post OOTP YGOxHP FutureSlash "Harry Potter knew he did not have the power to defeat the Dark Lord - yet, with the help of the others he embarks upon a journey - no going back. Power - gift or curse, it becomes a journey to finding ones humanity again
1. The Initial Disaster

**"No time like the present!" with that, Xenophilius had dragged the two into The Black Library and slowly shut the dusty door.  
**

**The Core Project**

**Yu-Gi-OhxHarry Potter Crossover**

**This story is a collab-project written by me and The-Living-Shadow, A. U-y.**

**Ignores DH/Horcruxes**

**Undetermined yaoi pairing, M rating for future lemon (wouldn't want to suddenly slap our dear readers with it, now that just wouldn't be fair). The Harry-Luna bonding will be siblingy/BFFLy, sorry folks, no HarryxLuna here. Just future slash. Haven't quite settled on the pairing yet.**

**Post-OoTP**

**R&R, also if there's inconsistencies, bare with us - first collab project. heh.**

**Disclaimer: We Do Not Own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter**

* * *

**Chapter One**

The angry redhead wouldn't even look at him – none of the other Weasley's really blamed Harry but it was hard not too. Molly Weasley was now looking over her kids with twice the eagle-eye, the uncomfortable atmosphere around Grimmauld Place hung like a bad smell. Though it was really no surprise, with the recent death of Hermione Jane Granger on everybody's minds…

Harry himself had not emerged from his room in days since his arrival from the Dursleys, after the accident, Ron had yet to even bother approaching Harry and had stuck to shadowing his younger sister around and staying well away from The-Boy-Who-Lived. The Order of the Phoenix had become very concerned about Harry's mental state following Sirius's untimely demise, and to add insult to injury, Hermione's to boot and the blame placed by Ron Weasley.

All food had to be brought up through another Order member and dropped outside of Harry's room and only occasionally would it be eaten. The Weasley twins tried to cheer Harry up or at least get him out of the room, but they gave up at around the sixth attempt, when Harry had flipped out and managed to throw them both out by the collar.

What actually happened in regards to Hermione's death was revealed by Ron, as was the reason as to why Luna Lovegood had been invited into HQ to integrate herself with the trio. The reason was far more sinister then it was innocent, it really wasn't to do with friends or safety, but rather, The Core Project.

You see, it was quickly established that Harry could not defeat Voldemort on his own, and after intense snooping, Hermione had discovered some of the rituals and potions Voldemort had taken in desperate acts to gain power. The playing field was just purely unfair, with Voldemort having magical advantages in leaps and bounds coupled with experience and a natural prodigal take to wandless sorcerery.

In an attempt to level the playing field Hermione had proposed that Harry go through the least dangerous ritual, and pick the one with the most advantages from the recoverable list that she had created of Voldemort's likely-to-have-done rituals. It took Ron a lot of convincing that it wasn't dark magic – it was ancient magic, and that ancient magic was not definitive under "light", "dark" or "grey".

Though now Hermione had died in an attempt to hurry the potion's process, Ron was now thoroughly convinced that it was dark.

Luna had tried to warn the bossy girl, but she disregarded Luna's warning despite the fact they were working from the Lovegood family's notes.

This resulted in Hermione Granger dying in the same manner that Luna Lovegood's mother died.

Luna herself decided to convince her father away from Westminian Bat searching, in order to bring him to HQ, the both of them tried to convince Harry out of his room, but he would not emerge.

Luna tried to recover what she could of The Core Project, but after rifling through Hermione's old trunk, she found the potion had been drunk.

Coupled with Harry's rather questionable mental state and refusal to emerge, the two Lovegood's quickly pieced together what happened.

Harry Potter had drunk the potion, perhaps in an effort to join Hermione, and everybody else, but it hadn't killed him.

This meant…he may actually have the dangerous power they had strived to give Harry in the first place in order to kill Voldemort.

* * *

Luna pondered the reasons why Harry blamed himself for the young witch's death, but no matter how much she tried, she just couldn't come up an reason that made logical sense.

Hermione's death was an accident, and if anyone asked the young pureblood, she would say the exact same thing, no matter how they tried to add their own ideas on what happened, but lately Ron Weasley's accusations and attitude towards Harry had been driving her up the wall. It wasn't Harry fault, and if she had it in her to be mean and spiteful, she would put the blame on Ron himself.

After all, it was his complaints about Harry's power and his own lack of skill that made them all realise something. Harry couldn't defeat Voldemort on his own, so in the end they all decided to do research and train themselves; pathetic spells, bad defence strategies and useless charms seemed to be the only thing Hogwarts staff was capable of teaching them. The only time students seemed to learn anything useful, was from those who wanted Harry dead, but what really annoyed most of them was the fact that the only teacher that could actually help and teach something useful, only helped Harry and trained him separately from the rest of them.

Thank Merlin, Harry taught them the '_Expecto Patronum'_ spell himself. It had saved them countless times when dementors were still around the school.

But even with all the training and research, it was obvious that he was no match. He was only sixteen and Voldemort was over sixty years old, with dark magic and rituals to make him stronger; it was obvious Harry was going to die.

Luna noticed how he started comparing himself to Voldemort like Ron had been doing to him. What happened next was Hermione's idea.

It was obvious that he needed something other than his friends help to beat the Dark Lord and his little band of inbred followers. Hermione had gone to the restricted library section herself, and through weeks of study and even more research. She came across a book that spoke of strengthening a wizard's magical core.

Harry was easily convinced by the young witch's explanations and theories, but even Luna could see that the only reason he agreed was because he would be the one going through the ritual, not them.

He would never put his life before theirs.

This is where Luna blamed Ron when she invited the trio to her home and he saw the luxury she and her lonely father lived in. He started moaning again about his family, and complaining how only Harry was going to benefit from all their hard work and how unfair it would be for them not to go through the same thing if it meant they had a better chance at surviving the war, and at first Hermione protested and argued with Ron, saying how the entire project was to help Harry and as good friends they should stick by him no matter what.

Something in her eye said differently, and Luna was positive it was because Ron said something about her muggle family and how she was going to find it very difficult in the wizard world by due to how she was. He meant appearance, but it meant something entirely different to Hermione whose dream was to become successful and improve the wizarding world.

It was Ron's fault...not Harry's.

One day Luna caught her, caught Hermione looking through her mother study and reading 'The Core Project'. She was ashamed to admit it but she had shouted – no _screamed_ at Hermione for even coming into this part of her home since they had all agreed to stay out of her mother's study; books that had once been dusty from being left alone for so long. Each had been cleaned, pages bent from use and books placed randomly back in the shelves her mother had built herself with her own hands.

But what really angered Luna was the book the young muggleborn held in her hand, the very project that had taken her mother's life; The Core Project. Hermione had broken her promise that the three made to her, so Luna broke her word and said none of them would be allowed to come back to her home ever again.

Panic shone in Hermione's eyes, and when she asked to go back and get her coat, Luna and the others thought nothing of it.

It was only when she had permission to visit her frantic father two weeks later that she realised Hermione had done something behind her back, her eyes were full of nervousness and she couldn't look in her direction without quickly looking away.

When Luna got home, her father tearfully explained that a book had gone missing from her mother's study and he was going to contact the Ministry in hopes of getting his beloveds wife's work back. It had taken some time to calm her father down, and she explained that she had an idea of where it had gone and not to worry.

Hermione had stolen The Core Project and from what Luna could read in her notes, she had been combining it with the ritual they had all been working on.

Confronting her had been easy and at first Hermione denied taking the book, but when Luna mentioned that her father was going to contact the Ministry of Magic, it wasn't hard to see just how bad things had turned. Stealing from a pureblood was a very foolish thing to do, and since Hermione was muggleborn, it didn't take much convincing after that and she confessed to everything.

Even with Voldemort's ritual, Harry still wouldn't be strong enough to defeat him, so when she had heard Luna talk about her mother and her work, it was like a light at the end of the tunnel and even though Mrs Lovegood had died, she was positive she could get it to work.

Luna had demanded and almost shook the young witch in frustration; the project had killed her mother and was strong enough to almost completely destroy her body. What made her think she could make it work? A child who had only been studying potions in school and rituals for a year, compared to a woman who had been studying and creating both rituals and potions for most of her life?

Hermione had said it was a risk she had to take. Luna slapped her hard and explained how she was going to tell both Harry and Ron about what she had done, and though she wouldn't tell Harry about how his best friend was putting his life on the line, she wouldn't hide the fact the same friend had stolen and could have gotten them a life term sentence in Azkaban if her father had gone to the ministry; he would have if Luna hadn't caught Hermione that day.

Everything went downhill after that.

Hermione grabbed her wand and used the _'Petrificus Totalus'_ spell on her before Luna could even turn around. All could do watch from the corner of her eye as Hermione ran off. Two hours later when Snape had found her and released her from the spell, Luna had quickly explained what Hermione had done. Snape at first sneered at the ritual since even he could admit it was dangerous, but when she explained what Hermione was planning to do with the ritual and her mothers work, it induced panic in the greasy wizard, but it was too late.

At Grimmauld, Hermione's room was full of fumes, and her burnt and almost unrecognisable body lay in a broken heap on the floor.

It wasn't Harry's fault.

From what she and Snape discovered, Hermione had taken one potion herself, but instead of strengthening her magical core, it made it explode. When they searched to room, they found one more vial of the potion addressed to Ron.

Luna had no idea that she had already given a vial to Harry at the time.

Both Snape and she agreed that it would be best that she took back what was left of her mother's work and kept the potion from Ron, since even the slightest chance of getting stronger; he would give into temptation in the end.

He returned to Hogwarts and reported what happened to Dumbledore, whilst she returned home and explained what happened to her father.

It was then Mr Lovegood said something that made her entire body become numb; why would Hermione make a potion for her and Ron, but leave Harry out when she meant to make him stronger in the first place? Both rushed to Hogwarts and to where Harry was mourning; passed out but breathing in bed with an empty potion vial on the floor was how they found him.

"Harry?" Luna whispered gently, moving his fringe slightly to feel his forehead; no fever, it was as if he had never drunk it "Are you alright?"

Silence was her answer.

* * *

The Order panicked over whether to get healers from St Mungos over or to transfer Harry to the hospital, but the ever-wise Dumbledore calmed everybody down and calmly brought in Madame Pomfrey from her holiday healer's additional training-course.

Luna did her best to remain in a ditzy daze but it was difficult when it seemed that part of her family's work was responsible for the world of her friend's to come crashing down. The medi-witch turned to Luna and demanded the notes on the potion used, alongside Professor Snape, to try and assess the damage the buffoon had done to himself in attempt for power.

Luna wanted to say that Harry didn't do it for power, but after Hermione dying from it, she didn't want to fathom the other reason Harry took the potion. With great reservation she handed the notes on the project to the two adults, who then tried to enter Harry's room where the boy's form could be found in a forced slumber that threatened to be eternal.

"Potter," sneered Snape, brandishing his wand and casting a silent ennervate charm to awaken him forcefully.

The Potion's master was quite unsettled when the spell did not work, at Harry remained prone.

"Wake up Potter," he tried again until berated by the medi-witch to stop, and that evidently Harry was not going to awaken from what was hopefully just a comatose.

"This is hardly the time to play dead," said Snape, continuing to sneer and billowed behind Pomfrey as they tried to approach the bed but were stopped in their tracks from what seemed like a silent slap in the face.

"Well the good news is the boy is obviously alive if he's subconsciously constructing this barrier," said Pomfrey with a faint sigh of relief.

The very air itself seemed to have rippled like a pebble thrown into a pond, shifting the very tendons of the air as they seemed to have reached a barrier that was previously invisible.

The two seemed at a temporary loss of what to do, until a dazed teenager walked in through the open door and surprised them all with her presence.

"It's time to tell everyone why you took that potion Harry," said Luna, calmly and dreamily as she always spoke.

"He isn't awake Lovegood, now go tend to that foolish father of yours before he cuts himself on a doyley, he's in the kitchens with Miss Weasley," said Snape dismissively.

Too concerned with Harry's grievous state, Luna let the insult against her father go over her head as she continued to speak to Harry's still body.

Luna seemed to intuitively know Harry was awake – some part of him had to be if his magic was constructing that barrier meaning he was conscious enough to be self-aware and aware of his surroundings.

Harry was not asleep, he never slept this calmly, Luna knew.

The two adults were surprised when the blond had gotten through to the Boy-Who-Lived. The soft lips began to shake out a response, Harry dared not open his eyes or move any other part of him, he felt too heavy with guilt to even so much as move properly.

"_I…took it….because I hoped it wouldn't work," _managed out Harry in a voice which threatened to break entirely, through a dry throat.

"What do you mean Potter? Nobody takes a failed potion unless they have a death-wish," snapped the irate Potion's professor until a frightfully stale silence fell over the room.

"You're correct, Professor," Harry's shut eyes seemed to squeeze even tighter shut as a look of uncomfortable pain flashed through his features.

"I had a death-wish,"

* * *

Eventually Harry had let the medi-witch check him over, and physically he seemed fine, though magically he was unreadable but the entire Order gave a sigh of relief.

Dumbledore had tried to talk to Harry, nobody had seen the man lose his twinkle or seem quite so much his age before, but he left Grimmauld looking significantly more troubled when Harry seemed to guilt-heavy to talk to anyone but Luna.

Luna Lovegood had never felt quite so relied upon, even her father, Xenophilius Lovegood had decided to occasionally accompany his daughter as she went to Harry's room to talk to him even if he rarely said anything back.

Xenophilius was initially quite angry, until Luna explained quite softly why Harry took the potion in the first place. It was no longer a quest for power to try and defeat a greater evil, but it was a wish for death, he wanted to go the same way his wife had gone. After hearing that, Xenophilius stopped being angry and brought books from the Grimmauld library to read with Luna to Harry who didn't move that much except to stagger his way to the bathroom now and then.

"I can take a break from Westminian Bat searching every now and then," Xenophilius had practically insisted. It was bizarre for Luna to see her dad act like…dad again, like he did before mum died, like the way he occasionally acted with Luna in rare bouts. Fluffing pillows, telling children's stories, bringing dinner up…

Harry was bringing her daddy back.

Molly Weasley still doted on Harry but had become significantly more distant since Hermione died; the Weasley twins and the older Weasley brothers perhaps took it the most logically – surprisingly. They tried to see Harry, but all they saw was he was in a state similar to that of a living corpse that only the two loony Lovegoods could care to bother with. They tried to stay the way they were with Harry previously, but soon, they gave up – he was too alienated in his room in Grimmauld, and frankly too miserable.

Fred and George swore to their dying day they'd get Harry out that rut – and the Lovegoods accredited them for their faithfulness to that oath. They kept trying, but all they got out of Harry was an occasional lip-twitch, if lucky, a smile.

Xenophilius could talk for hours to the largely unresponsive boy about everything from research to mythical creatures, even without a response, Xenophilius could almost feel a sense of gratitude from Harry.

Harry tried to express it, but all he could do was squeeze the older Lovegood's hand and stare blankly at the ceiling as he presented Harry with an anti-Syriax moonstone bracelet that he and Luna had made.

"It'll keep the Syriax from eating at your hair when you sleep," insisted Xenophilius with a dazed grin, and was surprised when Harry grinned back. The first proper smile in two weeks, in fact, he even sat upright in his bed and tried to hug the older Lovegood with what little strength he had.

Luna had broken out of her dreamy state and had beamed fully when Harry had finally gotten up.

"Decided to join the living, Harry?" she smiled.

"I…don't know Luna, but did you know your father's really smart?" asked Harry suddenly. Over the days of not moving and simply letting the Lovegood's breeze in and socialize with him as their way of trying to get him to get up, Harry had been soaking in everything. Absolutely _everything_ - working on his mind like no tomorrow, sealing his scar from Voldemort with his newfound power. You see, the potion did not fail at all – as you can tell from the fact Harry is alive, instead, it had worked…far better then anyone could possibly have comprehended.

"I am?" asked Xenophilius with a mildly surprised smile making its way over his face.

"Daddy's very smart," nodded Luna, wondering where Harry was going with this.

"Is your daddy smart enough to help me?" asked Harry, trying not to be patronizing.

Luna raised a brow and looked at Xenophilius who was gazing at the ceiling – barely paying mind to what had just come out of Harry's mouth.

"Maybe we both can, but only if you stop being silly and stop playing dead. Everybody's worried Harry," bargained Luna.

"Okay, if you help me, I'll tell you why I-" Harry grimaced "-played dead,".

Xenophilius seemed to pay attention now as did Luna when Harry began to lean forward as if to utter a great truth.

"The potion worked, but I think I'm dangerous – too dangerous to move or think that much I—I can't really control it, like that barrier I made last week," he sucked in a breath. It had been a supreme mixture of mourning, depression and outright fear mingled with a wave of self-loathing he had tried to pass over.

"I think me and daddy can help you with that Harry, just hold our hands and we'll go downstairs and get some muffins," said Luna, as if the weeks of depression had not transpired, and they were merely coaxing Harry to snack with them.

"You don't have to be scared anymore Harry," nodded Mr. Lovegood, letting Harry grab onto his right hand and his daughter's left as they pulled him off the bed.

"We'll get some muffins, and we'll help control that power that mummy gave you," said Luna, her eyes practically glowing with some bizarre sense of pride along with her father.

Miss Lovegood's potion had worked, her life's work had been achieved and it was embodied in Harry James Potter. Even in death – their genius of a mother-and-wife had succeeded.

Nobody noticed the bed sheets had kicked themselves off the bed as they shut the door and went downstairs.

* * *

The muffins that Molly Weasley had left in the kitchen were tasty – Luna and Xenophilius definitely seemed to be enjoying them, but they tasted bland in Harry's mouth. His stare wandered off, staring out into the next room where Ron was glaring at them.

"Ignore him Harry," said Luna softly after finishing her muffin.

Harry nodded absentmindedly and was clearly unsettled by his former friend's presence and loathsome glare.

"Would you like to go into the library Harry?" said Xenophilius suddenly, swallowing the last of a chocolate muffin.

"The Black Library is very extensive," nodded Luna "-it has books you wouldn't even find in the Restricted Section,"

"Um…why the library?" asked Harry, chewing into a plain muffin.

"Well there's no time like the present to try and control that potion's after effects," said Xenophilius with a bright grin.

"If it worked to its full capacity, we can't very well have our little walking explosive untamed," Xenophilius didn't mean to insult and even added a tone which suggested it was a bizarre term of endearment, but it clearly got at Harry.

"He just got up daddy," said Luna "-maybe he'd like to stretch his legs some more before we start,"

"No…no," said Harry quietly "-I can't very well function like this, can I? I mean, you didn't even see what my old raw magic did to Professor Dumbledore's office when I was angry,"

"I could be like a walking bomb right now!" Harry said, with obvious fear in his voice.


	2. The Second Prophecy

_A/N: Yes I know, pacing issues, but I was oh-so DYING to put something out, so here ya go._

_AU, FutureSlash _

_WE DO NOT OWN YU-GI-OH OR HARRY POTTER_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

What had initially started off as a simple between breaks research project into controlling Harry's newfound power, had now evolved into a time-consuming draining project that began to rival The Core Project in it's difficulty.

So far, their best attempts to reign in Harry's newfound abilities had thus far proven to be an utter failure, though Xenophilius and Luna had an unrivalled optimism which made Harry want to try whatever it was they were taking that gave them inhumane amounts of optimism.

The hours had stretched to days and days had stretched to weeks, as they listlessly went through book after book in The Black Family library.

Sometimes running into not-so-friendly security placed on the books and other times coming up absolutely empty.

Eventually he decided to stop, breath, relax – occlude.

Xenophilius and Luna leaned over to read the same book shared over their lap.

"All magic is centred in your core, your vocals – intent, and mind so in theory occlumency could help you with this sudden," Xenophilius paused, eyes turning glassy "-improvement,"

As both of them began to read the same guiding verses at the same time, they seemed to narrate the very actions he was trying to do within his own mind, but wiping it clean was not easy.

_'Snape, you bastard,'_ was the only thought running through his head, before his hate had been naught but petty but now there was a true vehemence behind it that extended a schoolboy grudge.

Occlumency wasn't just clearing your mind and imagining walls – muggles could do that, and Occlumency was a _magical _art. Occlumency, just like most magic, required incantation – intent, in other words, a spell.

Snape hadn't told him that part.

Holding Xenophilius's wand that lacked the Ministry trace, he mimicked the spell as they'd read it, firing at his temple, ignoring the feeling of tremendous fear when doing so. It eerily felt like how one would put a gun to their head, and deep down, he was terrified of what he would find within himself.

"Occlumera!" the wand jerked to the left slightly as if it knew that Harry was not it's rightful owner, and the magic it was channelling felt irregular to what it was used too, but none the less the spell stubbornly worked. This was why Harry hated using other people's wands.

He felt a blaze of heat shoot into his temple and burrow it's way into his skull like a worm of red hot fire at an amazing speed. His eyes felt like they had shot open but he wasn't seeing the library, it couldn't have lasted longer then a minute when he left his mind, but while he was there it was so immense it felt far longer.

The spell lets you into you into your editable mind for as long as you continue to put magic into it, but being so overwhelmed, Harry quickly cut it off and dropped the Lovegood's wand like it was on fire.

Everything was a blur of inactive senses, knowing what he should feel, and should smell and should touch but could not due to the fact it lay within in his mind.

All he saw was _fire_, fire everywhere and the smell – oh god the recreational smell that was there and yet wasn't, my God his body wanted to be sick.

The fire was everywhere, hiding his memories all of a sudden; it had not been there prior. Merlin the smell – sweet Merlin the smell! That which shouldn't be there and yet it tickled every sense of odour comprehension…

_Burning bodies, it smelled of burning bodies._

He almost shook with self-disgust, why, why did he see that? Why was that in his mind at all? It had no reason to be there? Xenophilius agreed to give Harry a break, and didn't ask why Harry had such a severe reaction. Luna however, was not so easily dissuaded from asking.

"It...smelled," said Harry after a moment "-it just surprised me that I could smell anything when I was in my mind," he added quickly.

"Oh," said Luna after a moment, deciding not to press further and merely passed the book over to him.

"I'm going to help daddy make some tea, we'll be right back, you rest for a bit," smiled Luna as she left the Black library.

Harry's eyes turned downward to the thick tome now propped upon his lap as he moved Xenophilius's wand to the coffee table.

"**OCCLUMERA"**

**FOCUS, INTENT AND PROPER AIM AS DEMONSTRATED BELOW FOR A FULLY EFFICENT SPELL TO OPEN THE MIND.**_)_

"**OCCLUMERA" INTENDS TO SHOW ONE THE DEPTH OF THEIR MIND IN A STATE THAT THEY CAN ALTER IT FOR OCCLUMENCY PURPOSES. IT WILL BE AS EFFECTIVE AS IT IS CAST AND LAST AS LONG AS MAGIC SUSTAINS IT.**

**Page 2 – Scheherazade Effect **

Harry raised an eyebrow and turned to the next page. What on Earth could the fairytale of Scheherazade have to do with Occlumency?

"**THE SCHEHERAZADE EFFECT**

**AS CONTINUAL AS THE STORIES WOVEN BY SCHEHERAZADE TO ENTICE A GREATER POWER, OCCLUMERA WORKS IN SIMILAR FASHION WITH THE MIND. PROFUSE USE OF THIS SPELL CAN RESULT IN A MORE PERMEABLE MIND WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT BE A GOOD THING. USE AT YOUR OWN RISK."**

Harry's eyes widened, by trying to strengthen actual mental barriers of his mind he also ran the risk of making it more sensitive if such barriers were to fall. Feeling significantly more wary he flicked forward a few more pages to the theory on the benefits of Occlumency.

"**THERE is a theory that mastery of Occlumency increases a wizard or witch's ability to perform wandless magic or the general magical performance done on a daily basis. This is through mental mastery of Occlumency which in turn, when giving total control of the mind, gives total control over intent which commands the magical core.**

**It can serve to increase the quality and power control channelled through the wand.**

**(Page 101 for in-depth theory on link between magical core and mind)"**

Turning to it, Harry found himself absorbed by the information and possibilities offered, however, this meant if he wanted any hope of retaining better control of his magical increased abilities, he had to brave his mind again.

_(Oh Merlin the smell had been so terrible though, so real)_ shudder.

Harry decided to try something – maybe if he cleared his mind and focused very hard, he would not need Xenophilius's wand. According to the theories offered, it should work.

Maybe if he could master that he wouldn't have to use 'Occlumera' again.

Placing the book on the coffee table, Harry leaned back in the armchair.

Squinting slightly as he looked through his rectangular lenses at it. It was heavy enough when he held it, it didn't move whatsoever but he could almost feel how heavy it was again as if somebody was resting it on his shoulders somehow.

'_Wingardium Leviosa'_ he thought intensely, willing the book to float up with all his mind, so much so he felt his body heating up for a moment.

It failed to move an inch.

Feeling at intense frustration, Harry gave up on trying to get it to move – fuck if he had it in his hands he'd have thrown it across the room in annoyance.

Without realizing he'd pictured it as he angrily thought in his mind

'Fucking _move!_'

Harry gasped and blinked back in shock as the heavy tome hurtled violently across the room and smacked into a wall at the far back, and fell to the ground with a vibrating thud.

Xenophilius burst in with a sloshing tea cup in his hands moments later, his glassy-eyes in a wide panic.

"Is everything alright! I heard a loud noise," Xenophilius received no response as he stared briefly between Harry and the book which had found it's way to the other end of the room.

With a sense of victory and almost paying no mind to the fact Xenophilius was there, he willed the book close to him, hoping he hadn't damaged it.

'_Accio… Accio…Accio'_ it didn't seem to make a difference, but it twitched slightly as Harry pictured it sliding…sliding across the carpet. Jumping off the chair and falling ungracefully to his knees, Harry went on all fours staring intently at the book in the distance like it was an enemy cat.

'_Closer'_ slowly, much slower then he would have liked, it began to slide to him and felt like a large bass being caught on a thread of string.

Harry felt a heaviness in his chest and mind and willed it to be stronger, he was stronger then this – he could lift that heavy book with one hand! He pictured grabbing it and bringing it closer in a swift movement and just like that the book pushed itself closer to Harry in a quick jerky movement.

Raw power had pushed it into him - Harry got his breathing under control as he felt a slight headache.

"That was very interesting Harry," said Xenophilius with a wide smile, surprising the boy by reminding him of his presence.

It felt like a dam had come down – the headache felt like it would be continual but he felt as though the initial difficulty had gone. In fact he was sure…he was sure he could lift more then his body weight if he gave it time.

He was sure he could, the power began to feel like warm water surrounding and rushing through him. With a strange grace he got up off the floor, book under arm and decided to join the Lovegoods for tea.

* * *

Within the long elegant glass shaped potion-esque bottles that riddled shelves and shelves in the Department of Mysteries. A long, black, shadowed bottle with an elongated neck, with an eye inscribed upon it – an Egyptian eye, made itself known. It was an irregular prophecy, one that had never graced the halls of the Ministry before. A prophecy made by Shadow Magic, to be exact – a magic that had been dead for millennia's.

A woman with tan skin and long black hair fell in a troubled slumber, her mind so terrifyingly blank, - it was so irregular that had she the energy she would be frightened. She could feel the ancient necklace worn around her neck almost burn through her skin. The vessel that brought the Shadow Prophecy into the world began to twist in her sheets uncomfortably. Usually her mind was filled with visions and actions, but on this rare day she was told words from an indistinguishable voice.

"_ALL THAT IS, HAS BEEN AND EVER WILL BE, SHALL BE PLACED IN THE HANDS OF A CHILD. _

_JUDGEMENT OF MA'AT WILL COME ACROSS HUMANITY AS A CHILD SUCCEPTABLE TO THE CRUELTY OF MAN WILL BE ONE TO JUDGE US ALL._

_HE WILL BE THE COLD HAND OF MA'AT, _

_OR THE SON OF DEUS EX MACHINA_

_HE WILL SAVE OR DESTROY US ALL, HE IS THE SAVIOR OR THE END, _

_HE IS MARKED EQUAL TO EVIL,_

_BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES,"_

Isis Ishtar woke up quickly, looking down at the Millennium Necklace with an indistinguishable expression marring her usually calm features. That was by far the most unsettling prophecy she had ever heard, a big part of her hoped she was dreaming but the glow of the Item told her otherwise. There was a fantastical surreality as she absorbed the word's of the Egyptian item and rolled them around her mind for hours on end as she paced around her bedroom.

She couldn't have possibly prophesied a potential end, could she?

Supposing she accepted it, then there were more questions, who was she to tell and what where they going to do about it? Could anything even be done about it? Her mouth was dry, she couldn't think and she didn't think she had the strength to call for her brothers or pick up the phone to call out of the house.

She was scared, no, _terrified._


	3. The Leap of Faith

**The Core Project**

_= Future Slash =_

_I do not own HP or YGO_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"You're making progress Harry," said Xenophilius warmly, watching the wizard break out into sweats trying to levitate three thick tomes at once, without use of his wand. The words seem to break his concentration on the three shaking encyclopedias, that fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

"No I'm _not!" _he said in frustration, shoulders sagging as he sat down in a seat beside Luna's dad who looked at him proudly.

"I can barely lift three sodding books, Ron hasn't even looked at me all summer since.. ," he sighed "-and now the thing people have died over has given me all this power that I can barely use," he said bitterly.

"You're a little hard on yourself, between recovery and everything that has happened, you have progressed when most would rest," said Xenophilius softly.

"There's no _time _to rest. Voldemort doesn't rest, every time I do, we lose more time and he gets stronger! Besides, if I don't get a lid on this before I go back to Hogwarts and before the papers get ahold of the news, imagine it. Think about how badly they went off on me for all the big bouts of magic I've done before," groaned Harry.

"Go back to Hogwarts?" said Xenophilius, surprised - picking up on that out of Harry's tirade.

Harry wondered why the man was so surprised until Luna came in from the other end of the library and explained.

"Me and daddy were talking about it earlier. If Hogwarts is even the best place anymore... It's obviously not safe, the amount of times the Dark Lord has penetrated it's walls," said Luna simply.

"Of course Hogwarts is the best place for me, where else could I go? I've got the whole school year of NEWTs left, I need to know everything I can," said Harry adamantly.

"Perhaps... if you were still a regular wizard Harry," said Luna "-but that power you have, it isn't like the magic you have in your wand. I looked at mummy's notes again, you know, you could bring Hogwarts down to it's foundations and not even mean to," she said, staring idly at the fallen books.

Harry gave her a disbelieving look.

"Don't you feel it Harry? Even if you don't know how to use it all, can't you feel it?" said Luna, turning her blue-grey stare to him.

Harry looked away from her and at the book pile on the floor, back at Xeno, then at Luna. He didn't want to validate what she was saying, because it meant accepting how dangerous his new found abilities were. It also meant admitting to the fact he was a danger to others and to himself if the notes on the scope of his capabilities proved accurate. His silence said everything.

* * *

He couldn't bare to be in Grimmauld, with only the Lovegoods treating him as though Granger's death hadn't happened. Even those on his side, it felt cold, everyone did. All he could think about was how the news would spread in Hogwarts and how it'd be like second year all over again. The public was already split on him and he didn't want to be watching his back forever. They'd be rumors, but sicker ones then he was used to. He didn't think he could bare being called a murderer - he'd only ever hold the title if it was over the sole responsibility of killing Voldemort. He couldn't bare the rumors or blame and split Gryffindor house (Ron would see to that) again. He cooped up in the library but he was sick of that too. Too many books - so much study.

Harry wondered if Sirius would have been with him through all of this, and have supported him. He felt a rock sink in the pit of his stomach at the thought of his deceased Godfather. Tripping back into the veil of death because of his own cousin, Lesterange, and if Neville didn't eventually get to her for what she did to his parents, Harry was certain he would.

He tried to cast the Cruciatus curse on her and it failed miserably.

Why? Because '_You have to mean it - Potter!'_

He was pretty sure he could cast it now without half as much struggle, and that thought scared him. A lot of things did. He scared himself.

That was when he realized he could not go back to Hogwarts this term, it was too dangerous for everyone involved, he'd already raised a death count on accident while he had as much power as the next student. He didn't even want to think of what would happen now, since something always happened. Every year, without fail because of him.

So he turned to Luna and agreed privately that yes, he would not go back to Hogwarts this year.

Going back to Hogwarts meant facing everyone - it meant facing Ron in an environment where all eyes turned on them and forced interaction. It meant being a social pariah again - hated again. He certainly couldn't go back to the Dursleys - the very thought made his stomach turn. He was scared of going back to Hogwarts this year, funny - as previously the ancient castle walls used to make him feel so safe. Now he was a danger to himself as he was to others. Perhaps an environment of explosive pubescent magic and negative publicity wouldn't be the best thing to return to. The thought made his throat go dry, as did the idea of sharing these thoughts to Dumbledore.

"He'll only send you back to Hogwarts," said Luna, and that Harry agreed with. The man had him attending Hogwarts through thick and thin and constantly under watch and careful placement.

"The only place you'll be safe is where nobody knows where you are," she said with a shrug "-as long as you come back,"

"Come back?" said Harry softly, eyebrow raised. The option of leaving the magical world had simply never occurred to him as a realistic option.

"You will come back to save us, won't you Harry?" asked Luna curiously, to which Harry looked at her with an expression of deep thought, slowly nodding. Never, despite knowing his role and the sacrifices he would have to make, had he ever been asked so bluntly. It seemed that with the nod of his head, he accepted a destiny that he did not want to shoulder. He had to fight in this war and end it - and this time, when he would meet Voldemort for the final battle to end or begin the dark revolution...the world expected him to finish the job. To take a life. It was so strange to think of it that way, that his destiny had spelled it out for him that he would be a murderer from the moment he was conceived.

Yes, he thought, he would come back to save them. Because he had to.

* * *

As far as training Harry was going, as neither of them had an instruction manual for this sort of thing, it proved difficult. They only had a vague notion of what Harry's second strain of magic was and even then it was hard to gauge the scope of it. Eventually, Harry had to politely tell the Lovegoods that it was probably something he had to investigate by himself.

He could move things with his mind, that was for certain. The extent of it however was not.

According to Xenophilius, this was a different branch of magic all together as it hardly used magic at all. There absolutely no magical signature left behind when he used the wandless ability - like when a child has a bout of accidental magic that may move or knock something over. In theory, a squib could have had such a power and been able to utilize it fully if their empty core survived the potion.

The notes left by Luna's mother also indicated the possibility of unknown side-effects or additional power depending on the wizard, the state of the wizard's mind and their magical core's reaction to the potion. When he privately got angry thinking about the argument he and Ron had back when they were actually talking, it felt as if he were in two minds with himself. He could move and feel his body with intense power running up from the tips of his toes, his fingers and midsection up to his skull. He could feel the warmth and the rush of it and yet when he moved it felt as if he were moving himself by puppet strings and was actually outside of his body at the same time. The feeling was phenomenal, but also dangerous. In that split moment of total power, he merely contemplated moving his bed and the whole thing flipped over with an awful thud.

It was around about that time that he realized his feet weren't on the ground and that little by little, he was controlling himself mid-air without aid of a broomstick. It felt as if someone cast a featherlight charm on his entire form. Whenever he moved something without touching it, he could detect it's weight and if it was lighter then his body-weight he could move it with pencil-flick ease. If the object was heavier it felt as though the heaviness of the object matter was spread evenly over his shoulders and mind, almost like balancing it over his head. But as with muscle building, his skill seemed to abide by the same rule of thumb - it got stronger the more he used it, the weaker the longer he left it.

Unfortunately the day rolled around - the day before they'd board for the Hogwarts Express. Harry admitted to doing zero preparation other then pack his trunk. Funnily enough his trunk consisted of all the things he'd need for boarding school instead of all the things required for running away.

He didn't even have a super secret place to bunker down.

Then he realized - if he wanted to be somewhere safe and untraceable, unless the Lovegoods knew occlumency, he couldn't tell them either.

_Do I really want to do this?_

It was the night before the train to Hogwarts, all were asleep, the only people who could possibly have caught him were out on Order of the Phoenix missions. That just left Mundungus Fletcher and Tonks, but if he played his cards right, he wouldn't need to bypass them at all.

_Yes, you do, you're scared of going back to Hogwarts this year. Coward._

Pause.

_Run little boy._

Harry felt his gut freeze, the thought almost felt as if it didn't belong to him. Was it Voldemort?

He threw on his invisibility cloak and mounted his Firebolt, his arm outstretched to the window and felt the breeze roll in and push the curtains back, he clutched the cloak tighter, his trunk - shrunken by an automated charm and rammed into his pocket.

It was surreal to fly over Grimmauld Place, St Ottery's Catchpole and then Diagon Alley in the dead of night with the stars around you. It was also beautiful in it's way, Harry had never felt so close to heaven before. He let his feet touch the cobbly grounds and saw very few wizards and witches out at this time, with a crinkle of disgust he noticed this was prime time for hags to emerge so he quickly made a beeline for Gringotts Bank.

The imposing white marble building greeted him with the same grandeur it did in the daylight. Surprisingly it seemed goblins took a night duty and had the place guarded when the sun went down, not surprising since night was when crime numbers boosted. Swallowing nervously, he took off his invisibility cloak and rammed it into his very worn out backpack and made his way inside with his face down, so that the goblin guard would not take note of his features.

He thanked his lucky stars that the bank was a twenty four hour service but even the goblins seemed bored as they hardly got members of the public at this time apart from one or two shady ones.

"Can I help you?" sneered the banker that Harry approached.

"I need to make a withdrawal and speak to whoever manages the Potter accounts," swallowed Harry nervously, glancing around him for a stray Order member.

"Potter?" the goblin glanced momentarily at his scar which Harry quickly hid. "-I trust you have your key?"

"That's the problem, I don't... Dumbledore has it," the goblin looked severely irritated at this and disappeared behind the offices for a minute.

"Slashnail! We need the identity scroll!" mere moments later and what looked like a mix between goblin and house-elf emerged looking disgruntled.

"Here," he pushed the papers to the goblin who slid them under the glass to Harry who looked at it wearily.

"Bleed on it," said the goblin harshly.

Harry paused and looked at the goblin, who glared right back when he didn't do anything for a moment.

"Well? We don't have all night human!"

"Don't you have a knife or ...something?" asked Harry awkwardly. The goblin's eye twitched and he forcefully made a grab for a letter opener under his desk and slid it across Harry's finger. The wizard flinched as the cut opened and blood dripped onto the scroll. The goblin - who's nametag read as "Hookspear," then tipped ink onto the parchment which arranged the liquid into words.

_THIS HUMAN IS HARRY JAMES POTTER,_

_BORN OF LILY EVANS-POTTER AND JAMES GODRIC POTTER_

_VAULTS IN POSSESSION: 1 TRUST VAULT_

_1 POTTER FAMILY VAULT (17 AGE LIMIT ACCESS)_

_1 BLACK INHERITANCE VAULT (17 AGE LIMIT ACCESS)_

Harry blinked at the scroll, and then at Hookspear who seemed to have gone and then come back sporting a gold key.

"This is your spare key, entrust it to no one," sneered the goblin, saying it slowly.

"Thank you," said Harry - trying not to get irritated "-is the head of my accounts in?"

"That would be Ragnarok," Hookspear called him over, the goblin took one look at Harry before beckoning him around the back into his office.

* * *

Ragnarok seemed to be looking at the Potter child quite critically to a point it was making him uncomfortable. The surprisingly welcoming goblin gave him a sharp toothed smile which seemed to unnerve Harry even more.

"Well Mr Potter," said Ragnarok, breaking the silence as he steepled his fingers over his desk.

Harry felt the lump lodge itself in his throats. _You're insane. Are you seriously going to do this?_

His logic and reason screamed at him, he nearly shook in his seat, palms sweaty with knees weak and the urge to suddenly spill out his plans to the goblin infront of him. It was insane! Abandoning everyone! Abandoning _Hogwarts _of all things!

"I did not expect to see you until you were of age, what brings you to my office?" Ragnarok asked.

Harry tested his voice unsurely, feeling sweat overcome him.

"I need to..." he paused and thought "- I need to transfer one of my vaults totally, and make periodic withdrawals without coming back to Gringotts," he said and for one terrifying moment, it felt like Ragnarok could see right through him through his eyes no matter how vacant he tried to make them seem.

"Transfer?" asked the goblin "-to a foreign bank? I assure you we're the only one in Britain, do you plan to spend time in another country?"

Shit. Fuck.

"Yes," swallowed Harry "-and I need to be able to convert it to muggle currency when I'm there," said the wizard nervously.

Ragnarok was silent for a minute, tapping his pen on his desk.

"It can be done," he said after a moment. Relief washed over Harry.

"There's conversion stands in different places, any place that exchanges muggle currency by hand will generally have an under the table method of accepting galleons and changing it, it's a matter of looking," said Ragnarok. Harry nodded, absorbing the information.

"Gringotts has partner branches in countries within the UN," Harry nodded at this.

"Where are you headed Mr Potter?"

Awkward silence fell for a moment though it didn't irritate the banker, Ragnarok merely tilted his head when Harry said nothing.

"You don't know, do you?"

Ragnarok smiled and withdrew a large file and flicked to a page after withdrawing a few papers from it that appeared to be legal mumbo-jumbo.

"Well, it may be of some use to you to know that over the years the Potter name has racked up more then Godric's Hollow as properties,"

"Over the centuries when the Potters were the Paddaughs and even previously, ancestral properties have gone in and out of use - many of them sold, your grandfather wasn't a stickler for tradition, they kept some as summer homes. Perhaps you would like to look at what you own?" he gestured to the papers.

* * *

The list had been random, apparently he had a cottage in Norfolk, a shack somewhere in south Alabama, a flat somewhere in Cairo - Egypt, and an unfinished dive in Australia. Harry turned a page and saw the last thing - a manor in Japan.

After a summer in Grimmauld Place and a lifetime in the Dursley household -a manor to his name didn't sound so bad.

"Is it normal for a higher up wizarding families to have this many homes?"

"The Malfoy family's property list goes to four pages," said the goblin flatly.

"...Oh,"

" 'Oh' Indeed,"

"Isn't there an age restriction to this sort of thing? Moving? Laws and things?" asked Harry.

"Not on all of your properties, you see, your father lacked the foresight to look at the property list over the years to do so," said the goblin. "-As for laws... well if you want to stay in your home in Japan for more then a holiday, a foreign emancipation can be filed for over there if you approach the Japanese Council of Magic."

"Oh.."

"You haven't thought this through very well have you Mr Potter?"

Silence. Ragnarok looked at the large backpack on his back and the sheepish look - he could practically smell the boy's fear. It seemed he had a runaway wizard on his hands, but him being one year from being magically of age and with no standing guardian other then the state, the goblin felt little need to intervene.

"The address for your property is on there, I suggest you consult someone in the shopping district to charm you a one-way portkey for a price. Portkeys are actually a complicated little piece of magic, it's why most apparate and why you don't learn it at school," said Ragnarok wisely.

He wasn't sure why, but he could feel something powerful about Potter, so he was being nice. Unbearably so.

"I can file for your vault to be transferred to our Japanese branch, I believe it's only your trust vault contents you want moved?" asked Ragnarok.

"Yes Sir," said Harry, fidgeting nervously in his place as if waiting for an Order member to apparate into the room.

"Ah, so you're coming back for us then Mr Potter," at that, Harry felt his jaw loosen. "-Good," said the goblin after a pause "-Better men have run from their problems and come back worser for it,"

Harry left Gringotts after exchanging some galleons for a few pounds, a few yen and keeping some gold on him in general. He left the bank with his face flaming in shame, Ragnarok had seen right through him. Filthy runaway coward of a wizard.

_Run little boy._

His gut froze again - there was that voice, that unsettling shiver-inducing voice that he preferred to think was part of his imagination.

He went to Knockturn Alley next, his forehead covered by a too-big cloak he'd packed but had to bring out in order to disguise himself. Only Knockturn Alley seemed to be brimming with activity, it seemed less intimidating then Diagon Alley at night, because Knockturn was always a weird place - day or night. He picked up a knocked off wand from some poor, unfortunate dead bastard who's wand ended up on the market. It sucked to do magic with but at least it didn't have a trace or leave his magical signature. Still, he would try not to use it. A portkey charmer was easy to find thanks to the grubby cobwebbed sign, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't currently shitting bricks in fear.

Vampires, incubi and all sorts were roaming about as if they owned the night, some of them throwing him shifty looks.

Harry ran through a mental list of all that he had, he knew he needed more. More clothes for a start, and some protective gear, but he quickly purchased an athame, a few potions and a cloak he could pass for wearing in the muggle world.

When he was pretty sure the vampire with the funny shaped head was following him, he decided it was time to split.

* * *

A white haired boy woke up in mops of sweat, his eyes darted open and before even getting up he glanced down at his heaving chest. He felt his throat go dry as the Millennium Ring seemed to glow in the dark.

Ryou flinched at the sound of maniacal dark laughter.

_You will be irrelevant soon._

Fear clutched him as he sank back into his bed, holding covers over himself and squeezing his eyes shut.

He didn't even want to think about the darker meaning behind what the Spirit of the Ring said. He had school tomorrow. He had to be a normal boy and see Yugi and the guys. He had to pretend everything was okay.

School. Friends. Games. Nice dreams.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to dream normal dreams over the sound of maniacal laughter pounding in the back of his skull.

_Enjoy it while it lasts Host, _said the Ring Spirit.


	4. Fear

**The Core Project**

_= Future Slash =_

_A/N: to those of you wondering about a certain owl - Hedwig, that'll unravel later in the story._

_I do not own HP or YGO_

* * *

**Chapter Four**

The first thing to greet him was the sound of a worn wood suddenly creaking under the weight of his sudden appearance. The air was thick and musky, the lobby was barren - it could have done with fresh air circulation. He stood, stock-still to slowly take in his surroundings. Harry was admittedly disgusted, there were cobwebs in every corner and cranny he could see, the Victorian wallpaper was worn and faded, the whole place looked to be in a worse state then Grimmauld had been.

Swallowing, he glanced up and nearly gasped at how high the ceiling was - the lobby was the size of the smallest bedroom he stayed in at the Dursleys - in width, and height was outmatched totally. After initial disgust, his first thought was how there was some very old spell-work that was keeping the foundations and structure of the house in un-aged, tip-top condition, and some sort of weak ward system that must have been keeping squatters, looters and general unwanted house visitors out - because it was totally uninhabited with some signs of furnishings. Old, outdated, antique furnishing that would probably be sold for a pretty penny too - hell, he even had a victorian styled sofa, except he was pretty sure there was probably something living in it.

There was a creepy atmosphere as all that broke the silence was the sound of him walking over the floorboards, disturbing inch layers thickness of dust as he went, his trunk of belongings rolling behind him as he stood infront of a staircase. As if scared that the creaky wooden floorboards would creak under him and collapse, he slowly ascended up the steps, heaving his trunk up them and breaking dust and cobwebs as he did. He heard the sound of shuffling critters and cringed as he saw a nest of half dead, half alive, puffskeins at the corner of the upstairs hallway. Harry paused and sniffed the air - something smelled bad, not revoltingly so, but distasteful enough for him to pull a face. It reminded him of the roadkill beside the park back in Privet Drive.

Upstairs were a series of doors, several bedrooms, a master bedroom and what was probably a bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a painting and turned toward it. If he was lucky, maybe it was a talking painting like the ones in Hogwarts?

"My word! Do my eyes deceive me?" the painting appeared to be talking to itself, or rather, the sword that had been painted with him. It was a knight, with no helmet and sporting thick silver armor on from the neck down. There was nothing else in the picture - no background, no life, no nothing.

"Excuse me?" asked Harry hesitantly.

"-all these centuries, I've never hallucinated before. I've even saught the company of those little puffskein creatures, nearly taught them English you know! Half of them died though, sad really," rambled the painting.

"I'm not a hallucination. I don't even think painting's can hallucinate," said Harry bluntly, cutting off the somewhat unhinged knight.

"...Quite right! I should hope not anyway," said the knight, nodding enthusiastically.

"I'd hate to think I've gone mad," he mused.

"Well...it's been centuries since anyone's entered this house my dear boy! What with wards and whatnot, I should take it since you could enter, that you're one of my descendents? Who are you? Tell me, what year is it? Is that awful war still on? With that Grindelwald fellow and that, that German wreck? The chancellor with the queer mustache?" the painting fired off.  
Harry's head spun with the amount of questions bombarded at him so suddenly.

"It can't have been centuries, lots of years, yes, you... you aren't on about the second world war are you?" asked Harry slowly "-I'm Harry Potter, I... well, are you one of my ancestors? "

"I'm Godric Gryffindor," beamed the portrait "-co-founder of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, do you know it?" asked the knight.

Harry stared in disbelief, first of all - the insane portrait was claiming to be one of the greatest wizards in British history, second of all, he was asking him of all people if he knew about the school as if it was an obscure corner shop! Squinting closely, he realized the sword the knight had been chatting too was familiar - it looked like the one he'd wielded in second year against the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. It was Godric Gryffindor's sword and no one but a true Gryffindor could wield it, and who would randomly paint such a rare piece with an arbitrary knight?

"Bloody hell you really are Godric Gryffindor," muttered Harry.

"Of course I am! Who else in Circe's name do I look like?" snapped the portrait "-Merlin? Youngsters these days," he grumbled.

Harry blinked owlishly at the moodswing but rationalized it to the portrait not being able to talk to someone properly from years of isolation.

"Right, now that one of my descendents has so graciously decided to bother with an ancestral property," sneered the knight "-I should warn you that dead puffskeins are not the worst thing you have to worry about!"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, making a grab for the wand he'd brought of the Knockturn market.

"I believe there's a boggart issue in the master bedroom," sighed the portrait "-and...well, we used to have house elves. I suspect that's what you smelled when you came in," said Godric, grimacing at the boy's horrified and repulsed expression.

"I'll leave my trunk here then," he left it standing crudely in the hallway and casted the cleaning charm more times then he could count, to get rid of the cobwebs that claimed ownership over a majority of the house. The wand responded stubbornly and the task took twice as long then it should have, he almost felt burned out. With some degree of revulsion, he casted a vanishing charm on the puffskein corpses, leaving on lone puffskein huddled in a corner.

"Evanes- " Harry paused mid-vanishing spell - the furry thing was doing no real harm, and it's whole family had already died in it's nest, so he softened and let the puffskein stay. The puffskein glared at his hand, then looked up at Harry, and bounced over to sniff his hand as if it was measuring his character. Then, it slowly inched into his open palm and nervously nestled into it, soaking into the warmth and tickling Harry's hand with his soft furry, fluff.

It let out a noise akin to a purr that almost felt like a little vibration or low little motor as it welcomed itself into the wizard's grip.

"-Going to keep him, I take it?" asked Godric.

"Yes, he's not doing much harm, is he? Besides, it seems to like me well enough and it was just sitting in a nest of it's dead family. Pest or not, I feel a bit sorry for the little guy," murmured Harry as he looked down at the little ball of fur.

"Well, you should name him then. You do name your pets, right? Or has that gone out fashion these days?" asked Godric wryly.

"Well he's the first of the little bugger's I've ever seen with teeth," said Harry quietly, in deep thought. Silence reigned for all of five minutes before the wizard decided on a name.

"Snapple," he said seriously "-his name is Snapple,"

"Why Snapple?" asked Godric, baffled and amused at the same time.

"The teeth," laughed Harry lightly.

"Perhaps you should get onto moving the house elf bodies, then the boggart," said Godric seriously, breaking the light-hearted air almost immediately.

Harry's expression darkened noticeably "-O..kay.."

* * *

Eventually the sky darkened and evening came, Ryou's sleep was difficult. How could he sleep with the golden sharp prongs of the Millennium Ring, stabbing into his chest persistently? The gold seemed to warm against the fabric of his clothes and his skin so much that he wondered if he would be burned from it. Never had the Millennium Ring had such a powerful, visceral reaction and it glowed so brightly that he didn't look down to see it.

He stared up at his ceiling, willing it to stop. It was starting to pain him and he couldn't ignore it or block it out and against his will he mentally called for the malignant entity of the Ring to get it to stop.

All he recieved was a mocking laughter pounding in the back of his skull as he picked up a pillow from under his head and put if over his face to muffle the sounds of pain as his chest began to ache from rhythmatic breathing.

His hands clawed deeply into the pillow as he squeezed his eyes shut against it and felt warmth behind his eyelids. He wanted to cry out, it was starting to hurt too much that his resolve not to make a sound was crumbling.

Finally, the entity answered him - but with the same, mocking, seemingly all-knowing non-answers that served only to terrify Ryou about whatever was to come or what the entity would do the next time he took over.

_"Host."_ It addressed him _"-the power is here, somewhere here, in this whole country,"_ the way he said it - the source of power could have been at the opposite corner of Japan but was so great that mere entry over the border had sent a ripple effect of it's sheer immense magnitude to the Ring.

The Ring spirit hungered for it - Ryou could feel that. The messed up, ball of rage, confusion, evil and utter darkness had switched from mockery and vengeance to sheer hunger. Like a vampire for bloodthirst or a cannibal for flesh, Ryou could feel the urge to be consumed by this hunger - just to be close to that kind of power.  
It terrified him.

He felt his hands bound by his sides, pillow discarded to the floor, feeling the power of the Ring sit on his chest as the glowing began to cease, and the hunger began to fade - as if tamed by the entity. The body demanded it's sleep, and was trying to shut down whether Ryou felt like it - or whether the Ring spirit wanted it to or not. So he grudgingly let his useless host sleep.

Ryou's last thought before drifting off, was how he didn't want the Ring spirit near that kind of power in any way shape or form. It terrified him to think of what could happen if the spirit of the Ring came into knowing contact with it.

And the chilling words of the last time the Ring spirit spoke to him, still haunted him.

_"You will be irrelevant soon,"_

It seemed the Ring spirit hadn't quite left him to his devices, as it added it's own two cents before the boy could truly sleep.

_"You all will,"_

* * *

Maybe Harry had run out of strength and was burning himself out too quickly - especially with the bootleg wand, a majority of the house was sorted and restored save for the boggart, but eventually, he'd stretched his magical core to a point of exhaustion and even Godric willed him to stop.

Stubbornly, he did not, not if he wanted to sleep soundly - alone in that strange place with only a portrait and a puffskein for company. It was a creepy, scary house that he'd yet to add a warm touch to. The house elf corpses hadn't helped either, he'd thrown up and had to vanish that too. He could easily have thought of Dobby like that and it made him ill.

Then he made the mistake of opening the wardrobe in the master bedroom, and saw his boggart.

But it was not a dementor as he expected.

The sound of the painting's comfort was drowned out by the sound of masculine cries, all that was in the master bedroom room apart from the bed and open wardrobe, was Harry, sitting on the floor, knees to his chest and eyes wide open, and his boggart.

His boggart mimicked him on the floor, staring back with morphed, quasi-human green-red eyes, that looked like they were stolen out of a badly made doll. It looked like Harry, but it wasn't. It looked like Tom Riddle, from the memory in second year - the horcrux. But it had his iconic scar.

But he was covered in what looked like crusted blood.

Harry couldn't muster words to dispell it.

They didn't even attack each other, they waited for the other to make a move.

Harry knew what he was staring at.

He felt his power stretch out- he willed the being to get away from him, physically - to go back into the hellish depths of that wardrobe and never come out. The thing was surprised and let out the most ghastly noise as it was flung into the open wardrobe and doors shut as Harry willed them to. He grabbed the wand and vanished the entire thing even though it hurt his core to do so at this point. He was exhausted.

Harry slumped against the leg of the master bed and remained on the floor, panting, with only the squeak of his puffskein and the concerned calls of Godric wafting in from the hallway.

His power - which didn't put a stretch on his magical core, called for his trunk as he weakly stretched out his hand that didn't have the puffskein in it.

The trunk slugged into the room, Harry was too exhausted to even concentrate on bringing it in properly as he pulled out the photo album and put it on the unfamiliar bed, the puffskein bounced off his hand onto the bed as Harry raised it, and he focused the last of his energy gently pulling Godric's portrait out of the hallway.

"-What do you think you're doing?" was the panicked call until the painting saw Harry was bringing him in with his powers and was too exhausted to pick him up manually.

"I don't think I can sleep soundly in this big place alone, would you mind being moved here and about until I can get more paintings for you to jump into? I could do with the company," and that was Harry's way of saying he felt scared and lonely.

The portrait of the wizened founder understood, and smiled at the boy.

"I'll show you this when I have more energy," yawned Harry, referring to the photoalbum "-it's my parents and some of the Potter family,"

"Thank you my child, I'd love to catch up on the latest additions and changes to my lineage as of late, yes, I have a lot of questions for you young Harry, but they can wait until morning - you look like Death just warmed over," said Godric, as he was hung on another wall nail overlooking the bed.

"Charming," snorted Harry, feeling weird to be bantering with a founder of Hogwarts.

He watched Harry curl up - he didn't open the photo-album and merely curled up with it and his puffskein - just so he didn't feel so out of place. Godric then realized that Harry had come with no one else - and his age was likely young. Did he have no one?

He felt a slight bit of pity as he watched young wizard try to sleep, curled up to a household pest and an inanimate book.

"Goodnight Mr. Gryffindor,"

Godric had never seen a person so young look so alone.

* * *

Harry realized he didn't know anything about the country he was in. He hadn't found a currency exchange, there was no sign of magic anywhere - his manor seemed to be plonked on the edge of a muggle town, and his dreams were filled of struggles and insecurities.

He was a little bit scared of going outside and getting lost.

_There's spells for that._

His mind told him.

_What if the Order find me?_

They won't have the sense to look outside of Britain, realized Harry - and none of them had the power to access his property lists.

Then he realized he was scared of talking to people. They were people of another country, nobody knew him, he didn't know them and he needed to get his bearings -fast.

Godric looked quizzically as Harry smiled in his sleep. His dreams were filling of plans, big plans. Not nightmares.

* * *

School had been sluggish affair, Ryou had barely got through it. He hadn't gotten much sleep - eventually he just quit the day halfway through and went home to sleep. The Ring hadn't done much and for that he was thankful.

Whatever the power was, it hadn't been Shadow Magic, but it was so strong it could have suffocated with ease.

Then, something strange had happened.

On his way out, to pick up some things to stock the fridge up, he'd bumped into a rather handsomely clueless looking fellow.

And the Ring _seared. _


End file.
